North of the Undying Lands
by queen-elizardbeth
Summary: Valacirca (Dipper) and Merrigold (Mabel) have fled their home in Arnor after it was destroyed by raiders in service of Ciphâton the Golden. With their Great-Uncle Ceneli (Grunkle Stan), they must stop Ciphâton from conquering the North and rescue Ceneli's brother from the wizard's clutches. Lord of the Rings AU! Warnings: blood, some gore, major character death. Slight Dippica.
1. Chapter 1: The Wizard and the Wolf

North of the Undying Lands by Queen Elizardbeth

Chapter 1: The Wizard and Wolf

* * *

In the beginning, there was Erü.

Erü, who is called Illúvatar, created all.

His first creations were the Ainur, the Holy Ones, into whom he put His Flame Eternal, blessing them with freedom of choice and their own will. With them, He lead the Great Singing and playing of music, from which all form, emotion, and light in the Halls of Eä were created. For a time, all was well, but soon, discord was woven in a battle between two themes.

Erü's eldest and most powerful son Melkor, who is later named Morgoth Belagur, sought to make his own theme greater. He brought many others to play with his theme rather than their Father's, and from this disharmony in the Ainur came all wickedness, strife, fear, and pride that reside in the hearts of those who dwell in Arda. And so, the Children of Illúvatar could be made corrupt.

The First Children of Illúvatar, who call themselves the Eldar, but are named the Elves in the nations of Men and Dwarf, were not easy to corrupt. The Valar, the pure siblings of Melkor, brought the Eldar to Valinor before Melkor's influence could manifest itself among them, but exceptions still remain. Finwë's eldest son, Curufinwë, who was called Fëanor by his mother, lead the Noldor house into exile after Melkor's rape of the Silmarils and slaying of Finwë. Maeglin, son of Eöl the smith, betrayed King Turgon of Gondolin in exchange for the hand of his own cousin.

But the betrayals of the Eldar do not compare with that of the Edain, the Second Children of Illúvatar. They are the men, the night-fearers, the short-lived. Of all nations and races in Middle Earth, the Edain are the easiest to corrupt.

* * *

The horses hooves pounded across the moor, bruising the ground as it charged away from the smoke.

 _Run._

The wind whipped the rider's face, his hair pulled back revealing the birthmark for which he was named.

 _Hide._

His sister clung to his back, tears streaming down her eyes as their family's screams echoed in her head.

 _'_ _Go!'_ Valacirca's grandfather shouted, hastily handing him a round stone wrapped in cloth. _'Take your sister and the stone to my brother Ceneli! He is near the coast, and he will take you in, do you understand?'_ The young wizard's tongue betrayed him as he tried to answer the aged man, and the attackers rounded the corner before it loosened. _'Go!'_ Cenelem drew his sword, and slapped the horse's flank, sending it fleeing from the burning village.

"Circa, stop!"

His sister's plea drew Valacirca from the past, and he saw that the horse was nearing the edge of a chasm in the earth.

He jerked back the reigns, and the horse came to a halt a few yards from the wide crevasse. Valacirca turned to look at Merrigold, her eyes wide from the fear still fresh in her mind. "Can we stop now?" she murmured into her brother's back, "Waddles sounds tired." The large horse below them grunted in agreement, his plump body heaving with each breath, not tolerant of such speedy endeavors.

Valacirca bit his lip and looked across the rolling land, unsure if his paranoia of eyes unseen was rightly needed. "Y-yeah. I think we can stop now," he muttered as he slid off Waddles, his body aching in pain from a night and day of riding West, to where their great uncle presumably lived. He turned and aided his sister in stepping down from the horse, her red and pink clothes the only color in the dull land.

"Why did grandfather want us to go to Ceneli?" she asked, adjusting her mother's quiver across her back. "Wasn't he banished for something fourty-ish years ago?"

Valacirca slid his staff out of the straps on the horse and sighed, not sure of the answer himself. "I think he accused someone of something, and there was a fight. Father never liked to speak of it."

"Huh. Do you think Lady Varda will tell you?"

The young wizard chuckled darkly, leaning on his brown wooden rod, the blue crystal in it's head glowing faintly. "I haven't heard her since she came to me five years ago. Also, I doubt she 'blessed me' just to simply force two old men to hug it out."

"It's still pretty cool that she gave you that staff, _and_ she put the design of some of her stars on your head! You weren't even fourteen yet!" Merrigold smile at him as she stroked Waddle's mane, the horse bent down to devour the grass. "You've got good things coming, brother!"

The corner of her twin's mouth twitched, and he then began to walk in a wide circle around them, murmuring in the elvish tongue as he gently waved his staff. " _Arwenamin, aa' vara tel' Seldarine mallen lye."_ His staff glowed a bright blue, and a ring of light about twenty feet in radius glowed on the ground around them.

"What did that do?"

"Protection spell. As long as we're within it we can't be seen, heard, or smelled." His eyes darted to the horizon, the Moon rising to make his journey across the sky before the sun even set. "It'll last until morning, so we will want to make an early start…" Valacirca's eyes scanned the horizon nervously. What if someone followed them? He didn't _see_ orcs or wargs with the raiders, but he wasn't careful to change their direction during the ride, so they could have easily been tailed. He turned to look at Merrigold, who was unrolling blankets that were stored in the saddle bags.

"Well if we're making an early start we better get some sleep," she sighed, smiling up at her brother. "I'll take first watch bro, you get some sleep."

"Are you sure?" Valacirca ask hesitantly, not sure if his sister was up to the task.

"Of course! Waddles and I will make sure nothing enters the circle, right boy?" Waddles lumbered over at the mention of his name, nuzzling Merrigold as he knelt down next to her. "You'll be fine, Circa. Get some sleep!"

The wizard sighed in defeat, and wrapped himself in the thick blanket. He placed his staff on the ground next to him, and, almost as soon as he rested his head, he felt himself slip into dreams.

* * *

Valacirca found himself facing a fountain, with clear blue water flowing out of the mouths of silver swans. The basin was filled to the brim, and light shimmered out of it like the reflections of stars, but the world around the fountain was black and void. But the wizard's eyes did not focus on the fountain, but instead rested upon the woman siting at the fountain's edge.

The woman was robed in dark blue, and many jewels were woven into her dress. Sapphire, ruby, diamond, and emerald glowed gently in the fabric that fluttered slightly by their own accord. But the gems paled in comparison to the woman's face. Her dark eyes were framed by hair as black as night, and her skin glowed with power. No mark of time marred her porcelain skin, but her eyes shimmered with memory of eras before the world itself was fully formed. The eyes met his own, and a motherly smile graced her features. She stood and stretched out her arms in welcome, her body seeming to tower over him.

 _"Valacirca,"_ her voice echoed throughout the void, _"It has been so long."_

The young man immediately dropped to his knees and bowed before her. "Lady Varda," was all he could whisper as he felt his lips fail him. The presence of any Ainuar, especially one of the Valar, in dreams was desired desired by many, but it often meant that doom was soon at hand.

 _"_ _Your thoughts are not deceptive,"_ She said, her approaching footfalls making no sound in the dark. _"I do bring tidings of woe, but I also bring words of wisdom."_ She placed a hand on his shoulder and gently pulled him up to face her. _"Both your fate and your sister's are tied to the doom of your uncle, and you must continue West to meet with him there. The time with him will not be of peace, and terrors that have not been seen since the fall of the Dark One shall claim dominion again. You must aid your uncle, and you must break this deception that has arisen in the North."_

She placed a hand on his face, and her eyes filled with concern. _"You will meet another member of your doom tonight, and know that, though you may not wish anything to do with them, they will be a part of your fate now, and until the Unmarring of Eä."_

She removed her hand and pulled him into an embrace. _"You bear our Sickle so you may be known as our harvester, now wake and prepare for that which Illúvatar has planned."_

* * *

Valacirca's eyes shot open, the entire dream clear in his memory. They were to continue to their great-uncle's, and he was meant to meet someone tonight. Who in Arda could be of such importance? He sat up to talk to Merrigold about his vision, but he was met with a hand clapped over his mouth.

"MMMMPH," he instinctively reached for his staff, but Merrigold's face turned towards him, her usually cheerful eyes serious and focused. She slowly removed her hand, and placed a single finger on her lips. Valacirca opened his mouth to ask what was the matter when he heard the cause for her alarm: a long, single howl rode on the wind, and it was followed by a terrified shriek.

"What was _that_?" Merrygold whispered, her hand griping Valacirca's arm. Her brother gave no reply, but stood up, clutching his staff. The hill on which they were sleeping conveniently gave them a good view of the surrounding landscape, and the waxing Moon lit the undulating moor. At first he spotted neither man nor foul beast, but then a white dash to the north caught the corner of his eye. A snow-white horse was galloping towards the hill and chasm, its rider clad in violet, and behind it charged…

"Merrigold, draw your bow, NOW!" Merrigold knocked an arrow, and aimed towards the horse. "What is it?" she muttered, her voice barely audible over the violet rider's screams.

"Wolf," her brother replied, "A really _big_ wolf."

The wolf in question was currently bearing down on its prey, its maw snapping at the golden hair flowing out behind the rider. The rider turned sharply, hoping to cause the wolf to stumble, but the beast's footing kept the pace, and the horse charged up the hill.

"Get on Waddles. When I give my signal, start shooting at the wolf. Keep shooting at it once it gets to me." The wizard whispered hastily, pointing his staff in front of him. Merrygold nodded, and climbed on the horse, preparing her bow. The rider was approaching quickly, charging straight at Valacirca. It was 30 feet, 20 feet, 10 feet-

"NOW!"

Valacirca leapt aside as the wolf howled in pain, an arrow sinking into its neck. He struck the beast's snout with the head of his staff, the hide and skin smoking against the blazing crystal. The wolf turned to face this new adversary, but as soon as it exposed its back three new arrows sprouted from it's hide.

The rider drew her horse to a halt, twisting in her saddle to see the new players on the field. She sensed the magic in this spot, and saw that her suspicions of sorcery were confirmed by the staff that the young man wielded. She was hoping that whomever had casted the spells that hid these two from her sight would aid her against the werewolf, and she was glad that she was once again correct.

The woman on a very fat horse rode in circles around the wolf, sending shaft after shaft into its foul flesh. The monstrosity turned his glowing red eyes at mounted woman, and she let bow falter, paralyzed by the fear the wolf send into her. The wolf then returned back to the wizard before him, and lowered its body, preparing to pounce. "No!" the rider screamed, urging her horse forward. Her horse leapt over the wizard, and slammed into the foul beast, knocking it aside. Merrigold snapped out of her trance, and, drawing her final arrow, sent it flying into the wolf's snarling maw. The beast choked on the arrow, its metal point sinking deep into the back of it's throat, and Valacirca shoved his staff's head into its open mouth.

 _"_ _CAELA IE'LLE"_

Light burst from the wolf's mouth, eyes, and nostrils, and the air was filled with the smell of burnt flesh. The wolf jumped away from Valacirca, and it attempted to turn away from the source of its pain, but its paws broke beneath it. The beast raised its head, giving out one final cry in agony, and it fell at the young man's feet, black blood flowing down its back from the metal points of Merrygold's arrows.

"Ugh" said Merrygold as she slipped off Waddles to stand with her brother. "And I thought it smelled bad _before_ we fried it's guts." She strode up to the wolf and began to collect her arrows, yanking them out of the bloody hide.

Valacirca approached the beast's head and inspected it. The wolf was far too large to be any ordinary warg, and a malice radiated off of it. It's limbs were oddly portioned compared to the rest of it's body, being nearly an extra foot longer than the legs of other dogs, and spinal vertebrae stuck out of it's back like a small mountain range, and it's teeth were jagged and crude.

The wizard noticed a small patch of skin on the left cheek of the wolf where no skin grew, seeing multiple gray lines crossing the black flesh. He stretched out his hand to to touch it, but a sharp cry made him halt.

"Stop, you fool!"

He turned to look at the rider, who still towered above him on her horse, blue eyes glowering at him from under the violet hood. "Dost thou know what that foul creature _is?_ Or dost thou wish to see Mandos sooner than any other?" Her voice was sharp, and her eyes cold.

Valacirca briefly returned her glare before moving back to the wolf. "You seem quite bold to insult the ones who just prevented you from visiting Mandos yourself," he muttered, brushing back the matted fur that stretched over the skin. His eyes widened at the symbol the lines made: a great crown, with three diamond-like shapes across the brow, and below it an ax and a war hammer crossed. Valacirca took a step away from the wolf, and glanced at his sister who finished ripping her iron barbs out of the creature's flesh.

"Merrigold?"

"Yes?"

"You remember how Father told us about those weird demon wolves?"

"The werewolves? Yes."

"It appears we've just killed one."

Merrigold ceased wiping the putrid blood onto the werewolf's hide and stared at her twin. "Really?!" Her voice was overly happy for one who had just fought a demon-possessed monster, but the excitement of such a victory was somewhat understandable.

"Look," Valacirca pointed at the brand with the end of his staff, the crown seeming to absorb the blue light, "That's the symbol of Morgoth." His sister gasped at this and met her brother's eyes in astonishment.

"How old _is_ this thing?"

"I'm not sure. Angband was the final place where werewolves were bred, so it has got to be at least six-thousan-"

"AHEM!"

The twins turned around to face their guest, who had descended from her horse and lowered her hood. Her face was square-shaped with high cheekbones, and was framed with golden hair and elegant bangs. Her eyes sparkled blue, and her lips were full and red as a rose. A small circlet of gold sat upon her head, and she was adorned with diamond earrings and a necklace of pearls. Valacirca noticed that her ears were pointed, and her skin radiated power. He would have thought the elf beautiful if it were not for the prideful disdain that marred her features. Her arms were crossed in impatience, and her eyes were barren of any kindness.

She glared at the two, waiting for some recognition from the Edain that stood before her and had given her little to no heed. "Will you two continue to ignore me as you marvel over the corpse of an ancient horror? Or will thou actually appreciate company when you receive it?"

Merrigold wrinkled her nose at their guest as Valacirca raised an eyebrow, ready to send the werewolf's would-be victim away. "While we do enjoy company, we are not ones to appreciate those whom we save and then don't even thank us."

The elf's face turned red with anger, "How dare…Do you know who I am?!" She hissed at the twins through her teeth, her fists balled.

Merrigold inspected her up and down, and smirked at the enraged Eldar. "You're _clearly_ an elf who has no idea how to care for herself in the wild. You're wearing fine silk robes and some pretty nice jewelry, but you clearly are unarmed out here. You have on some nice perfume which probably got the werewolf on your scent in the first place. You are, quite simply, helpless."

"Helpless?!" The elf screeched, "I am Tiunelu Fornumen, daughter of Precoth Fornumen! I am a Noldor elf of the Havens! My father fought for Fëanor during the battle with the Teleri, from which he came victorious! I saw the fall of Nargothrond and Menegroth! How _dare_ you call me helpless!"

Tiunelu's chest heaved with wrath as the twins took a step away from her, fear in their eyes. Valacirca stepped forward, his calm appearance masking his own fury.

"You are a Noldor, you say?" He brushed his brown hair out of his face and his brown eyes met the elf's blue irises, "Well my sister and I are both Dúnedain, descendants of Tar-Elendil, fourth King of Númenor. Merrigold is her name, and I am Valacirca, son of Denelem of the house of Filbrick."

The elf scoffed. " _Valacirca_?" Tiunelu raised her eyebrow in disbelief, "Denelem must be a very _bold_ man to name you after the creation of Varda."

The wizard felt his sister grab his arm, likely planning to restrain him if necessary, but he remained calm. "Say what you will," he sighed, "That is my name, and it was given with Varda's approval."

"What do you…" Tiunelu's tongue knotted itself when she saw the Edain lift up the bangs that covered his forehead, revealing there the mark that looked identical to the constellation shining above them. The elf was filled with fear and wonder, unsure how to respond to such a statement.

"Lady Varda gave me this staff five years ago, and she blessed me with this mark," Valacirca glared at her, "She has not revealed to me my doom, but she assured me not long before you joined us that it will soon come into effect."

The elf was silent for a long time after this. She herself had been told in a dream to head north after she was waylaid on her way to Rivendell, and she recalled the Sickle being present in the message. After the wizard ceased glaring at her, she said slowly, "To where does thy path lead?"

Merrigold crossed her arms as Valacirca raised an eyebrow. "We make for the Icebay of Forochel. We seek out Great-Uncle Ceneli, as our own home was destroyed." Tiunelu bit her lip nervously, uncertain how her next statement shall be received.

"I shall join you."

"Pardon?"

The elf sighed bitterly, her pride difficult to abandon. However, if she desired to return home, she would likely be safest traveling first to the coast and south from there. "I will join you until we reach the sea. Ulmo still has dominion over those waters, surely he will preserve my life as I return to the Havens."

Valacirca was about to object, but he felt his sister tug on his arm. "Circa, talk. Now." He allowed himself to be pulled aside by Merrigold with their backs to the elf, their hushed voiced barely audible over the wind.

"What should we do?"

"I'm all for leaving her."

"Circa!"

"What? She's very rude."

"True, but she hasn't wronged us. At least, not yet."

"Do we have to?"

"What would Varda want?"

Valacirca groaned at this. He had nearly forgotten her message that another member of his doom would join them that night. _Please,_ he begged, _Please tell me it's not this elf._

But the more he pleaded, the more certainly he felt that she was, in fact, the one of whom Varda spoke. He sighed, and met his sister's brown eyes.

"We need to take her with us," he muttered dejectedly, "This meeting is not by chance."

"Alrighty then," Merrigold turn back to the elf and gave her a hesitant smile, "You can come with us until Forochel."

"You have my thanks."

And with that, Tiunelu turned to her horse and pulled a blanket of her own out, and made herself a bed upon the grass. Valacirca turned to see his sister's eyes droop, her body swaying with exhaustion. "Go ahead and sleep," He whispered, "I'll take the watch until morning."

Merrigold smiled at him before lying down next to her horse. "Thanks, Circa."

Valacirca pulled out his old pipe and looked at the stars above, planning their journey come dawn.

* * *

Far in the north, past the realms of Angmar and Gundabad, a man robed in gold slowly opened his single eye, a smile spreading across his face.

"So," He rose from his throne of stone, carved to look like Edain and Eldar supported him in agony, "It appears your kin has that which you his from me, my old friend." He came to the cliffside, from which a man hung by his arms, chained to the rock by his wrists. "Don't worry, Cenelord," the Wizard smiled, prodding the man's twig-like arms with the pointed end of his staff, "I'll see to it that you will be reunited with them before the End."

* * *

 **Notes:**

Gravity Falls is owned by Disney, all Tolkien-stuff is owned by the Tolkien Estate, none of this is mine, blah blah blah.

I hope you all enjoyed the first Chapter! This is the beginning of my Arda AU, which takes place in the Lord of the Rings Universe. I'll try to update on a regular basis, but I don't make any promises.

Most, if not all, characters will be Gravity Falls characters in this story. I will mention the Lord of the Rings and the Silmarillion quite a bit, but none of the characters will actually appear. Tell me what you all think! I really want to make this one good!

I hope you enjoyed this first Chapter! This is the start of my Arda AU, which takes place in the Lord of the Rings Universe.


	2. Chapter 2: Lies, Halflings, and Stones

North of the Undying Lands by Queen Elizardbeth

Chapter 2: Lies, Haflings, and Stones

* * *

Dawn came with a harsh chill flowing over the domed hill and down into the chasm. The sun peeked over the land, sending blazing reds and golds across the eastern horizon. Dew coated the grass, and birds could be heard in the distant trees.

Merrigold awoke to the sound of her brother moving across the hill's crest. Given by his haggard footfalls, she guessed that he had kept the watch the entire night. Not a shock, considering the events that happened to them yesterday and only some hours before dawn, but she wished that he would for once let her wait until the sun had made it fully into the sky before forcing her on whatever trek was in store today.

The brunette archer rose with a groan, stretching out her stiff arms. Clearly, her youthful exclamations about the wonders of grass were oblivious to how poorly it made a bed. Coming to her feet, Merrigold pulled her bow and quiver over her shoulder and began to pack up her blankets, seeing that all of her brother's possessions were already stowed upon the fat horse.

Her eyes wandered over to their elven guest, who was already seated upon her horse and was brushing her long, thick hair. She watched Tiunelu with curiosity, admiring the golden locks that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. The hair seemed to posses within itself its own light, and she noticed now that among the gold silver and platinum were also woven. Merrigold waited to see if she would behave as she had the night before, but, rather than staring down at the Dúnedain with continued disdain, Merrigold noticed that the elf was watching her brother with interest, making note of his staff and the burns on his neck.

Soon enough, the elf felt eyes upon her, and she glanced at the scarlet-clad woman. Looking as if Merrigold was an undesirable blemish on the landscape, the elf said haughtily, "Can I help you?"

"Oh!" Merrigold smiled as warmly as she could, whereas her insides felt as cold as Lammoth, "It's nothing. I've just never seen an elf before, let alone spoken with one!" She laughed to herself, a melodious sound which sang as sweet as a bird's call, but at this Tiunelu only sniffed.

"Count thy blessings, for I shall only accompany you until we reach the shores of Belegaer."

Merrigold rolled her eyes at the elf's statement. She had to admit that she would be _lying_ if she said she wished their guest would stay with them beyond the Icebay, but they were only a few days away from their destination. Surely she would be somewhat tolerable until then.

As Merrigold turned her back on Tiunelu, she heard her scoff, "What kind of a bow is _that?_ "

Merrigold jumped slightly at the elf's comment, and, turning back to her guest, slowly pulled the bow off her back and turned it over in her hands. The bow was made not of yew wood, like many others in that area, but of hollow steel. It was a family heirloom on her mother's side, passed from mother to daughter since it was first forged in Númenor near the dawn of the Second Age. Never had it rusted or cracked, but in her heart Merrigold was sure that this bow had a part in the cruel conquering of Middle-Earth under Ar-Pharazôn. It was a miracle it was not swept into the sea with the rest of the Isle.

The young woman smiled weakly at the elf, fearing the comments she was expecting. "It was my mother's bow," she said, "Made in Númenor long ago. It's been in the family a long time. We're not sure _who_ made it, all we know is that when we left to settle in Middle-Earth, we took it with us."

Tiunelu looked quizzically at the maiden, a pitying smile playing on her lips. "And why does your mother no longer wield it? Did she find the pleasures of youth weakening in her age?"

Both Dúnedain froze at this comment, and, slowly, Merrigold lifted her head to face the elf, her eyes filled with loathing. "My mother died ten years ago," she hissed, "A foul breeze came from the East, and it struck several members of our clan. My mother lived longer than most, but that just lengthened her torment."

Tiunelu went pale as Marigold's eyes filled with tears at the memories. Soon she felt her brother's arms wrap around her in comfort, and she quietly sobbed into his shoulder. After a time that was far longer than appropriate, the elf found her voice again.

"I'm…I'm so sorr-"

"Save us the speech," Valacirca growled, not turning to face her as he helped his still-crying sister onto Waddles, "We do not need your pity. We shall take you to the coast, and you shall depart from us there."

With that, the wizard mounted the horse and grasped the reigns, moving the hefty beast towards the north-west. Tiunelu, still shocked by the man's words, took a moment to realize they were departing, and urged her horse forward to stay close to her guides.

* * *

For the first few hours of the journey, not a word was exchanged between the trio. Merrigold eventually nodded off in the saddle, leaning back to rest on her brother. Valacirca constantly scanned the land for other travelers, be them friend or foe, as they traveled across the moors and into a small forest. No sound was heard beside the occasional scuttle of a small animal or flapping of sparrow's wings. Sunlight streamed through the elm leaves, and the air was fresh and crisp. However, that silence was soon broken by an increased pace in the trotting of their companion's horse, and Valacirca saw the elf at his side.

"I…want to apologize for what I said this morning," Tiunelu was hesitant with her words, fearing the wizard's reaction, "I was callous and proud, and I hope I can receive thy pardon."

Valacirca sighed, partially wishing that this conversation could have been put off. _May as well get it over with, we_ are _stuck with her._ His brown eyes met the elf's blue, and his mouth twisted into a frown.

"Why do constantly look down on us?" He asked, expecting a pathetic excuse for an answer, "You have shown us no kindness since we have met, even after we saved your life and agreed to allow you to accompany us."

The Noldo raised her head in indignation and glared at the wizard, brushing her golden tangles out of her face. "When one reaches an age as great as my own," she hissed, "One learns which peoples are most cruel and fearful. You Edain are second only to the Dwarves in cowardice, and are first to betray others." Her teeth clenched together as memories of ages past came to her, and her blue eyes burnt like coals. "Thou claim to be children of Númenor? Then thou would know how thy kind allowed Sauron to slay Celebrimbor and many others whilst thou rested upon thy blessed isle! Thy kin allowed him to come and be a welcomed guest, and gave him leave to burn in sacrifice to the Dark One many of my own kin and Elf-Friends! If it were not for the Edain's treachery in Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Beleriand would not rest beneath the sea and many would have lived to see victory! Bliss would have returned to Arda if it were not for the wickedness of man!"

Valacirca sat in his saddle, taken-aback by her words. What she said was quite true. Men were not known for their wisdom, and many times they allowed themselves to enter the service of the Enemy out of fear or ambition. Númenor would have lasted far longer and been great had not the lords allowed Sauron's flattery to sway them, and the Dark One would have fallen much sooner had not the House of Uldor attacked Maedros' flank from behind.

But Valacirca knew how to retort her. _Now this is an argument from which she cannot escape_ , he thought, and a cruel smile formed on his face.

"You speak to _me_ of treachery, _Noldo?_ " he chuckled, preparing for his triumph. "You say that _my_ kind is deceitful and ready to betray while you hail from the nation of _Fëanor?"_

The elf blinked and looked at him with bewilderment, all anger replaced with utter confusion. Her eyes darted from the trees back to the wizard, and she stared at him as if he was mad.

"Fëanor did _nothing_ that would associate him with betrayal," she said slowly, beginning to doubt her companion's sanity, "He obeyed the orders of the Valar to pursue Morgoth and the Silmarils, and he and his brother served as messengers of Manwë, sent to aid Middle-Earth from the Shadow. I am aware of the wickedness of Fëanor's _sons,_ but the High Lord's first heir committed no crime. And so, the Noldor are great."

Valacirca's jaw dropped at this, unable to fathom what she had said. There was no lie in her tone nor resting in her eye, but all she had said were greater deceptions than that of Annatar! Somehow, for Erü knows how long, she had lived for nigh seven-thousand years without hearing of Fëanor's crimes. Soon, Valacirca's voice returned, and he asked the elf, "From whom did you hear this? And how long ago was this?"

Tiunelu rolled her eyes, and replied, "My father told me long ago in Nagothrond, and Lady Galadriel assured me in Menegroth. She spoke not of Fëanor, but she did tell me of the many deeds of Fingolfin. My father spoke most highly of Fëanor, and of his many creations in Valinor."

Valacirca continued to stare at her in disbelief. Both her own father and _Lady Galadriel_ had lied to her about the history and rebellion of the Noldor. He could not believe that someone could live for so long and constantly be surrounded by deceivers. _Granted,_ he thought, _she likely would not believe anyone who told her otherwise…_ He allowed himself to slip into his own council and, deciding that it would be wisest to avoid any more major discord, chose not to correct the elf.

"Well, I cannot deny the wrongdoings of the Edain," Valacirca said, "But you have said nothing of Beren, Tuor, his son Eärendil, nor the House of Armandil. Many of those men have aided the Eldar and fought with them against the Shadow."

"That may be true, but do you yourself not speak of them as the exceptions?" Tiunelu smirked at this, and Valacirca sighed.

"Very well," he grumbled, "I cannot beat you in this argument. But I have told you that I am under the blessing of Varda. I would never dream of harming or betraying anyone, so please don't treat me or my sister as if we have blood on our hands."

The Noldo's opened slightly, and, after a moment, she said, "Fine then. I shall make better judgement of you two as we journey."

"How thoughtful," Valacirca muttered, continuing through the forest in the noon light.

* * *

Eventually, a break was seen in the trees, and the wizard and elf found themselves upon a great ridge, and the path led down the cliffside and into the wide ravine. They followed the path into the lush gorge, but, as Valacirca began to head down the trail, he felt a firm hand on his arm. He turned, and saw Tiunelu grasping him with a delicate hand, a look of warning on her face. "Can't you hear them?" she whispered.

"Hear what?"

" _Listen._ "

Valacirca was quiet for several moments, but then he heard it. The distant pounding of feet, as if many people were running towards them at a great speed. "Merrigold," he whispered to his sleeping sister, "Merrigold, _wake up."_

"Huh?" she muttered groggily, rubbing her eyes, "Circa…what's going on?"

"Silence!" Tiunelu hissed. "Herald of Varda, get thy steed off the road!"

Valacirca leapt from Waddles and guided him off the trail and behind the large thicket where the elf had hidden. He helped his sister off, and the two drew their weapons, preparing for whoever was coming near them. Soon enough, they were glad they had hidden, for they heard the rattling of mail and clangs of armor, and they knew that this was no party of mere pilgrims.

"Halt!"

They heard the party stop just on the other side of the thicket, the commanding voice strangely high. A mixture of murmurs and chuckles could be heard through the leaves, as well as what sounded like the low growls of hounds. Slow, heavy footfalls approached them, and the thicket was hewn by a great sword, and the trio found themselves facing five black arrows.

Valacirca quickly scanned the party. They were a group of roughly twenty men stood before them, and none looked like bearers of kindness. Their faces were twisted and scarred, and all wore expressions of suspicion and wicked glee. The hair of some was matted and twisted into braids, held together with what looked like the bones of small animals, while other's had singular rows of short hair on their heads, dyed to look like blood. They were armed with axes and crude swords, and their bows were bent and black. Great black dogs snarled as they twisted around their masters' feet, their bloody gums anchoring yellow teeth. In front stood a man nearly nine feet in height, his appearance a silhouette in the sunlight.

The great man stepped forward, and they heard from him the high voice, "Lower the bows, boys. It looks like we have company!"

A round of malicious laughs escaped the group, and the man's head scanned each member of the trio, and soon rested of Merrigold. For a long time, he was silent, until a very faint, "My my…" escaped his lips. The man stepped out of the direct sunlight, and the two Dúnedain and elf were met with the most bizarre image they had ever seen.

The man that stood before them was terrifying in appearance. Muscles rippled beneath his skin, and he bore many tattoos that marked him a warrior. In his hand rested a great sword, not crude, like his companions, but smooth and sharp. He was very tall, at least seven feet, and his wild hair and beard were a fire-y red. But most distinctive of all were his eyes. No pupils or irises were among the misty white orbs, but by the way he glared at them, he was most certainly not blind. However, even as fascinating as his eyes were, the three were more surprised to the person who held onto his _back._

What looked like a child stood on a sort-of mount that rested on the warrior's back, explaining why their silhouette appeared looked like a single giant man. He was pale, small, and his pure white hair was elaborately styled. He wore a baby-blue waist coat and trousers, and he also bore a darker blue jacket. His shirt was black, and a dark green cravat was tied around his neck. In the center of the knot rested a turquoise gem, shining in it's own light.

"Ghost Eyes," The child-like man tapped the huge man on the shoulder, "Would ya' please let me down? Ah would like a word with our guests."

"Sure thing, Gideon."

The warrior knelt down and allowed the small man to hop from his shoulders and stand before the Dúnedain and elf. On the ground, the man stood only three feet tall, and no shoes were worn over his large, hairy feet. A dagger hung at his side, though proportionally, Valacirca suspected, it sized him perfectly as a sword. Despite his height and baby fat, the wizard could tell that the person before him was no child: his eyes had a faint malice within them, and his sword had scratches of recent use.

"Gideon Gleeful of the Southfarthing at your service!" he stooped into a low bow, "Ah most certainly hope Ah didn't startle y'all too much with the arrows!" He chortled some and stood back to his mediocre full height, "You can never be too careful in these parts!"

Valacirca offered Gideon his hand, "Valacirca, Son of Denelem, at yours," he did not hide the hesitation in his voice. Gideon may be acting pleasant to them now, but his men didn't look like the type to take orders from such a _gentle_ person. "My sister, Merrigold," the woman waved slightly to Gideon at her introduction, "And Tiunelu of the Noldor." The elf nodded her head at this and said, "Greetings."

"Well my stars!" Gideon said, staring at Merrigold in awe, "You are more beautiful than the Shire roses in bloom!" He stepped forward and kissed her hand for a very long time, and he eventually looked up at her, saying, "It's quite the pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Merrigold."

Merrigold's face turned bright pink, and an uncomfortable smile formed on her lips. "And a pleasure to make yours!" she said, trying to hide her unease "I hope you don't mind me asking, but… _what are you?_ "

Gideon chuckled some, and patted her hand, "Not a problem at all, mah lady! That gets asked a lot out here! Ah am a Hobbit of the Shire! One of the sturdy little folk of the South! Some of mah kin have recently been the guests of Elrond in Rivendell! Perhaps y'all have heard of them?"

Merrigold shook her head apologetically and Valacirca said, "'Fraid not,", but Tiunelu gasped.

"I have heard of thy kind!" she exclaimed, "Some of thy kin attended a great council that was held near six years ago by Master Elrond! And one of thy kind was great in the reclaiming of Erebor!"

"Well Ah say!" Gideon turned to the elf with a joyful expression, "It appears mah kind is better known in these parts then Ah thought! Now where are y'all from? I'm guessin' your from either Rivendell or the Havens, am a right Miss Elf? But such a lovely flower can't possibly be from such a harsh land!"

He turned back to Merrigold with this, a dreamy smile across his face, but Valacirca cut in. "We come from South of here, and we are traveling to the Icebay in the North."

"The Icebay! Well y'all certainly aren't taking the easy way! We ran into a group of thieves just two days back, and they certainly were't the friendliest types. But we sent 'em back runnin', didn't we boys!"

The men behind him shouted enthusiastically at this, some banging their weapons on their spiked helms. Gideon turned back to the three with an apologetic smile, his dimples turning red with a slight blush. "Sorry if mah lot are a bit jumpy. The have a lot of energy that needs burnin'! Speaking of which," his face turned serious as he looked at Valacirca, his green eyes lacking any amusement, "You wouldn't know the fastest way to the downs near Fornost, would ya', boy? Also called 'Deadman's Pike'?"

Valacirca frowned slightly at being called "boy", but the seven-to-one ratio kept him from making any comment. "You're best bet his going the way we just came," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the trail behind him, "We've been heading north, so that's south. I'm not sure if it's the _fastest_ …but it's certainly in the right direction. But what would you want from the downs?"

The Hobbit gave him a smile that didn't reach his cold eyes. "Ah'm afraid that ain't any of your business, boy," he said, his voice as sweet as poisoned honey, "We've been lookin' for somethin' for a while now, and after our last two stops were dead ends, that's our next place. Ghost eyes!"

Gideon snapped his fingers, and the huge red-haired man lifted him back onto his shoulders. Gideon pulled a white handkerchief out of his jacket's inner pocket, and handed it down to Merrigold. "Keep this for me will ya'?" he whispered, "And don't forget widdle ol' me." He winked at her as he stood up on his harness, and looked back to his men. "Well?!" he shouted at them, "What are y'all waitin' for? Let's get movin'!" The warriors shouted out, and they stormed up the trail South, their feet shaking the ground.

The trio sighed in relief as they stepped onto the trail, watching the dust settle as Gideon's band left. Merrigold held out the handkerchief gingerly, as if it were recently sneezed on. "Well _that_ was unpleasant," Valacirca muttered, pulling Waddles out of the thicket, "I for one hope our paths never cross _again_. And what on earth is a _hobbit_?" Tiunelu groaned as she pressed a finger to her temple, guiding her own ivory steed onto the trail.

"They are a race of people that live far south of here. They rarely venture beyond their own borders, and have never, until within the past century, taken part in the affairs of other peoples." Her eyes narrowed as she looked toward where the creature in question had departed. "But I greatly wonder what he could want from the downs near Fornost."

Valacirca shrugged. "Don't look at me. All I know is that there are rumors that those downs are haunted. Something about an old sorcerer-king putting in ghosts to guard his treasure or something. All children's nonsense," he said as the elf raised her eyebrows, "Just legends to let the graves be."

"Hm," the elf pursed her lips, "But there still was a foul air about him. I agree with you that it would be best if we did not him meet again."

"At least he barely spoke to you two!" Merrigold huffed, still looking at the cloth in disgust, "He was really creepy to me!" She shuddered at the memory of him kissing her hand, and she stuffed the handkerchief in one of Waddle's saddlebags. "I'm _definitely_ not grieving passing him by next time."

"Well, the more distance between him and us the better," Valacirca said, helping his sister into the saddle. He offered his had to Tiunelu, but she waved him aside and mounted her horse with ease. "Shall we continue?"

The horses began to trot down the trail, proceeding with their northbound journey.

* * *

They stopped not long after nightfall on the other side of the gorge. They had seen many fresh carvings on the trees that they had past, likely put there by Gideon and his men. None seemed particularly interesting, "Skull-head smells," and "Nose-thorn was here," being fine examples of the majority, but there was one that Valacirca could not get out of his head. The carving was of a triangle, with a dragon-like eye in the center. The pupil was a narrow slit, and it made him feel nauseous. He questioned Tiunelu if it was the symbol of Sauron, but she quickly pointed out that his Eye was circular, and he had nothing to do with triangles. The symbol was several feet of the ground, so it likely was put there by Gideon himself. This thought did not bring him sleep.

Valacirca sat near the dying embers, the smoke trailing into the starlight skies above. His pipe brought him some comfort, but he needed to start rationing his pipe-weed. There were no places in the wild where he could refile his stock. His thoughts continued to drift towards the downs at Deadman's Pike, concerned about what Gideon would want from there. He tried to think of what could be of great worth in those graves, but not though aided him.

The Ring? That was destroyed. The Dragon-Helm of Haldor? No, that was long lost. The Silmarils? Definitely _not._ He chuckled to himself at his own foolishness and looked to the skies, easily spotting the twinkle of the Silmaril that rested there. Eventually, he remembered his grandfather handing himself something before they fled, and he turned to Waddle's saddlebag. Slowly, he pulled out the final gift from Cenelem.

It was heavy and wrapped in an old sackcloth, but through the fabric it felt quite smooth. He gingerly removed the coverings, and stared in wonder at the stone. It was a perfect sphere; no bump, crack, or scratch was upon it. It was polished to perfection, and it fit well in his hand. Navy blues and indigos swirled by their own accord within it, and Valacirca could almost see the shining of light in the center, that which was not a reflection of the stars.

 _*crack*_

Valacirca jumped and hastily wrapped the stone in the cloth, reaching for his staff. He looked at the two sleeping near him to see if they had broken the twig that caused his alarm. His sister was sprawled out near his feet, snoring gently, and her hair was tangled around her face. Tiunelu slept on the other side of the fire, laying on her back with her face at ease. A cold sweat overtook the wizard, and he reached down to wake his sister.

"Merrigold!" he hissed, "Merrigol-"

He heard a shout and a hand clapped over his mouth, and he felt the cold edge of a sword press against his throat. Three figures, two average size and one small, leapt upon his companions, weapons glinting in the fading light. The elf screamed as an axe was pressed against her neck, and Merrigold cried, "Hey!" as her bow was yanked from her grasp.

Valacirca's eyes darted around as he tried to make out their attackers' appearances, and he felt a warm breath near his ear.

"Y'know, kid," a gruff, husky voice chuckled in his ear, "For a wizard, you make a _really bad_ watchdog."

* * *

 **Review Replies!**

Batwizard15:

The one-shot will not be take place for several more chapters. I'll probably re-write it to make it more consistent with the rest of the story, but it probably won't come about until around chapter 8. I do agree with you that, it being the fourth age, men have been given dominion over Middle-Earth, and the Elves are slowly leaving. However, this takes place maybe only five years after the fall of Sauron, so Aragorn, though he proclaimed dominion over much of Middle-Earth, is still trying to actually maintain his power. Mordor, though fallen, still needs much cleansing lest any other servant of the Enemy try to use any remaining power or weapons of Sauron there, so the North is not high on Aragorn's priorities list. You are correct in that the Elves are leaving, that's why Pacifica and another character will be the only elves featured in the story besides those seen at the end. In regards to the supernatural history of Gravity Falls, I going to have the "old horrors" making a second appearance (ie. the Werewolf), and pretty much this entire story takes place in the north off of the maps, where much of Morgoth's monsters are rumored to still live, so I'll probably have most of the "Gravity Falls monsters" be creatures of Morgoth. And in regard to Varda, the Valar did help in LOTR with Faramir and Boromir's dreams and they gave life back to Olorin. The relationship between Varda and Valacirca is near identical to the relationship with Tuor and Ulmo: gifts of power and guidance. The Valar are aware of Ciphâton, but, unlike Sauron, his plan is far more threatening and he has almost all the means to make it so. This story sort-of marks the end of all of Morgoth's servants in Middle-Earth (besides the sleeping balrogs), so in doing so it eases the burden of conquering evil from men, and gives the elves reassurance that they are leaving Middle-Earth in good hands. Thank you for the ask!

 **Thank you for Reading!**


	3. Chapter 3: The Thief's Reunion

North of the Undying Lands by Queen Elizardbeth

Chapter 3: The Thief's Reunion

* * *

 _The light of the candles burnt low, nearly all their strength given to their master. The fire had long since crumbled to ash from neglect, only a few small embers still glowing in the dark. The only noises that could be heard in the locked room was the scratching of a quill on parchment and the panting of the man that bent over his research._

 _The table was littered with many strange objects. A silver knife covered in runes rested not far from his hand, and a set of ornate gold goblets hummed and twinkled with inherent energy. On the other side of the table lay a long ash branch, dust and shavings surrounding it from every time it's owner slowly shaped it into a smooth staff. However, the man's focus at the moment was not on forging a weapon of power, but on recording as much as he could in his leather-bound book, his six-fingered hands shaking with excitement._

 _"_ _Facinating!" he murmured to himself, "All so spectacular! So much knowledge and power! My friend," he turned to the smooth stone that sat near his elbow, pushing his glasses up as he smiled, "I cannot thank you enough for this!"_

 _A chuckle escaped the orb, and the image within smiled. "My dear scholar!" he whispered, "My lord Lórien has done all this for you! All I am is a humble messenger!" The man within winked his one eye, his toothy grin shining under his golden beard._

* * *

Clearly, Tiunelu had misjudged Valacirca when they first met.

He was right! It _was_ better to know him first and then make better judgements of his character rather than hold him by the standards that were set by men of ages past! She was _wrong_ to assume that he would be the type to betray her and many other, like his ancestors had! He was never the type to live in deceit, and he was most certainly not treacherous.

No, he was just _stupid._

She glared daggers at him as she sat with her hands tied behind her back and a large piece of cloth stuffed into her mouth. Her wrists ached as whatever crude rope cut into her flesh, likely leaving some sort of rash! Her make-up was smeared from her mishandling as she was stripped of her jewelry and silks, leaving her wearing nothing but her thin pink kirtle that offered no protection from the wind. If she had her voice, she could have sang a sonnet that would surely make all present, both the thieves _and_ the twins, wish that they were each in a warm, soft coffin. Sadly though, all she could do was stare hatred at the wizard as the bandits rifled through their bags, admiring whatever they found valuable.

"Hey guys," a male voice came from the one clad in all black with a large lute strapped to his back, "Look at _this._ " The object in question was a crystal bottle of perfume that he had pulled from one of Tiunelu's bags. It was a fragrance containing the essence of lavender petals, and was certainly _not_ easy to come by. The elf squirmed some in her bonds, wishing she could leap upon the rogue, but all she could do was give muffled cries at him. This managed to catch his attention, and he turned to look at her, and gloating smirk forming on his thin face. "Oh, is this _yours?_ " he said, waving the bottle in her face, "Well I reckon it's mine now, and I'll do what I want with it. Hey Valima!" He turned to one of his companions, brushing his greasy black hair out of his face, "I've got you something for you!"

The bandit clad in a dark green cloak turned to him at this, and a young woman's voice replied, "Hm, no thanks, Robbie. I'm not a fan of Noldor scents."

Tiunelu huffed indignantly at this, but the rogue in black gritted his teeth. "I told you," he growled at the green woman, "To call me _Neithan._ "

"Neithan? Really?" the woman scoffed, "How on earth have you earned the title _'Wronged One'_? Last time I checked, you had a _perfectly fine_ life before you decided to leave town and join us out here!"

"Well I… You don't know me or my-"

"Hey dudes! Check this out!"

The voice came from Tiunelu's right from the smallest figure. He appeared to be of the same race as Gideon, noting his short stature and hairy feet, but there were several differences between this hobbit and the one they met the previous day. As a start, he was taller by nearly half a foot, and his body was more pear-shaped than round, though he also had a great stomach. His skin was much tanner, and his brown hair was hidden beneath a flat cap. His smile was wide, revealing two large, rabbit-like teeth, giving him the appearance of a humanoid gopher. He held over his head Merrigold's bow, and Tiunelu suspected that it exceeded him in height.

This caught the attention of the man that sat near the fire examining Tiunelu's pearls. His brown eyes widened in surprise, and a pleased smile broke out under his lumpy nose.

"Well done, Soos!" he exclaimed, "That is a very nice weapon!"

He took the bow from the halfling and turned it over, admiring the skilled craftsmanship. "If I'm correct, and I almost _always_ am," he chuckled, "This is an iron bow of Númenor, am I right, young lady?" He looked to Merrigold expectantly, and she slowly nodded at him. Tiunelu was quite envious of the twins at the moment, due to the fact that the thieves had not seen their clothes as particularly valuable, so they were still clad in their layers as the sat, tied back-to-back. The man leered forward, his cat-like grin getting even wider. "You know," he said, looming over the twins, "I myself am a Dúnedain, so this might've belonged to some of my kin! What do you think of that? Two amateur thieves bring me back my family property!" He threw back his head and laughed, his long brown hair shaking. He eventually ceased his laughter, and he turned back to the saddlebags. "Let's see what else you two have in here! Given your company," he gestured to the elf, "You probably have some more pretty valuable stuff."

He rummaged through the sacks with his back to them, still chuckling at his own jokes as his three fellow bandits continued inspecting the weapons. Eventually, the one named "Robbie" picked up something from the ground and muttered, _"Woah."_

"Whatcha got their, kid?"

The man in black lifted up a perfectly spherical stone, and Tiunelu froze. She knew _exactly_ what that was the moment she set eyes on it, but how could the twins have gotten ahold of one of _those_?

The leader appeared to be in similar mind as he took the rock, his eyes filled with wonder, but soon his expression shifted from one of amazement to seething hatred, and he turned to the bound Edain.

He towered over them, his broad shoulders casting a shadow in the fire light, and with one swift movement, his sword slashed and cut their bonds, and he lifted Valacirca by his throat. "You return more than an old weapons of Númenor," he hissed, his brown eyes blazing, "From whose dead hands did you pry this? Or did you slay them as you raided their home?" He shook the wizard like a rag-doll, his teeth bared in fury, "Answer me!"

Valacirca gasped for a moment, trying to draw breath past the older man's grip, and said in ragged breath, "We got it…from our…Grandfather…"

The thief snarled and released the young man, and with a quick slash and a spurt of crimson, Valacirca lay on the ground with a gash in his chest. Tiunelu's eyes widened in horror as Merrigold gave a muffled scream, and the three other thieves took a step away from their captain. The man stamped on the wizard's chest and pinned him under his foot, no remorse in his eyes, pressing blood out of the cut and onto his boot. "And just who exactly _is_ your grandfather, boy? Was he a thief and liar as well, or is he merely a well rehearsed story?"

Merrigold managed to get her gag off of her mouth and twisted over to see her brother, tears streaming from her eyes. "Let him go! Our grandfather is Cenelem of the House of Fillbrick! We are children of Númenor! Please! He's not lying! Please don't kill him!"

The man froze, and, slowly, he turned to the girl, his eyes wide with shock. He removed his bloody foot from Valacirca's chest, and his sword hung uselessly in his numb hand. His mouth moved but no words were heard, and eventually he stuttered out, "W-what did you say?"

Merrigold continued to sob as she looked at him, her face stained with tears. "Our father is Denelem son of Cenelem, we have fled after our home was destroyed and our family killed. Please don't hurt him…" she hung her head, tears falling to the earth, "He's all I have left…"

The thief marched over to her and knelt down, gently lifting her head to inspect her. As his face drew closer to hers, he saw within her features the signs of the House of Fillbrick. Her relatively square shaped face, deep brown eyes, and brunette locks were all he needed to see to know that she spoke the truth. Without taking his eyes off her, the man said, "Valima, heal the boy. Soos, Robbie, give these three back their possessions. _Now."_

"What? But boss-"

The captain whipped around and held the rogue by the collar of his shirt. "I said now!" he snarled, and he released the man, who tripped as he scrambled to fulfill his orders. The man bent down to release Merrigold's bonds, his eyes still full of with wonder. He unsheathed a small knife that hung on his belt and cut the ropes that bound her, pulling her to her feet. The woman in green, Valima, if Merrigold got her name right, leapt over the fire like a deer and bent down to attend to Valacirca's wound.

The thief's leader put his hands on Merrigold's shoulders, his face overwhelmed with emotion. "Cenelem, Carlama, your parents, they're all _dead?_ "

Merrigold squirmed in his grip, trying to get to her brother, but she became petrified when she saw the horror and sorrow in the man's eyes, tears beginning to well in those orbs. She looked up at him, towering a head over her, and sniffed, "Y-yes."

The man wailed and wrapped his arms around Merrigold, his trembling form shaking her entire body. The rest of the band around the fire stopped what they were doing and stared. The three other rogues seemed quite shocked by this odd display of emotion. Clearly, this behavior was not normal for their captain.

Eventually, the man let Merrigold go and faced her again, his eyes bloodshot from repressed tears. "And why are you two out here?" he whispered, "Why did Cenelem send you into the wild?"

She stared at him, and replied, "He sent us to find our great-uncle Ceneli. We were told he lives not far from the Icebay, but, why would a thief like you care?"

She saw an annoyed expression on his face, the same expression Cenelem made whenever he had to explain something quite simple to the farm hands twice. "Because _I_ am Ceneli, brother of Cenelem. I am the one you've sought."

* * *

Valacirca coughed, trying to lay perfectly still as the woman tended to his wound. He could only make out some sobs and whispers through the pain, but most of his sister's conversation with the man was lost to him. He vaguely heard the _man_ start crying, but the rest of it was all hasty murmurs. He looked up at the hooded figure over him, trying to make out her face in the shadows. She turned her head towards his own, and in the faint light he saw her give a small smile.

"It's not that deep, you know. I've seen the old guy do _much_ worse. He's the type to stab first and then ask questions." She chuckled to herself at this, and helped him sit up. "You should be fine in a few days, we just need those bandages to set in."

"Thanks," Valacirca said gruffly, "Though I would have appreciated not getting cut in…the…first," his mouth failed him as the woman drew back her hood, her beauty rendering the man mute.

Her face was heart-shaped and pale, with a spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her skin was like white marble, and her emerald eyes were framed by locks of red hair that stretched down to her waist. She wore a wool hat on her head, and Valacirca suspected the ear flaps covered the points that would mark her as an Eldar. She was clad in greens and browns, and a great ax hung from her belt. Light green armor glinted in the fire's dancing glow, and her hands, though strong and scarred, were gently formed. Valacirca tried to speak, but all that came to him was a small squeaking noise in his throat. The elf raised a hand to her mouth as she laughed, amused by the wizard's distress.

"You know," she said, helping him to his feet and handing him his staff, "I would have _assumed_ that you would be far less shocked at seeing an elf, given that you've been traveling with a Noldo!"

Valacirca's response dissolved into more stutters as the elf yawned, eyeing a somewhat smooth rock. "Eh, don't sweat it, kid," she sat down near the fire with her hands behind her head, stretching her legs to warm her feet. "By the sound of it, you'll be with us for some time…"

The wizard's voice returned to him as he stared at her in confusion, and started to say, "What do you-," but he was cut off by a pair of arms crushing his ribcage and threatening to re-open his wound.

"CIRCA! IT'S GREAT-UNCLE CENELI! YOU GOT US TO HIM!" His sister's jubilation would have shattered the eardrums of the regular person, but, having lived with the maiden's shrieks of joy for nigh twenty years, Valacirca no longer suffered the effects of the cacophony. "Merrigold…my..ribs," his grunt of pain was missed by his sister, but soon enough she released him and ran over to hug the older man. "This is Grunkle Ceneli, Circa!"

The older man looked surprised at the portmanteau word assigned to him as a title, but he smiled apologetically at his great nephew. "Sorry about the gash, kid. That thing is…pretty special to the family," he scratched the back of his head nervously, his eyes staring at the ground, "It's _particularly_ important to me."

Valacirca could only stare at the man as he stepped forward, struggling to comprehend what was happening. After a quick inspection, he saw the man's resemblance to Cenelem. He was tall, not much taller than Valacirca or Merrigold, but the three of them were taller than most Edain. His long brown hair fell to his shoulders, and it was wildly unkept. His shoulders were broad, and his arms slightly long for his body. His jaw was flat and covered by a brown beard, and his nose lumpy and shaped like a small potato. His brown eyes squinted at him, almost as if he were struggling to see, and his exceedingly large ears stuck off the sides of his head like wings. His clothes were mostly red, but he wore an elegant black traveling cloak, and his shirt was white under his mail. He stuck out a scarred, weathered hand to his nephew. "Can you forgive me for that, kid?"

The wizard took his uncle's hand, still watching him with disbelief. Ceneli's eyes darted around the fire, struggling to choose what to say next. "Well…" he clapped his hands together and bit his lip, "I guess some introductions are in order. You two know me, I guess, but let's have you meet the team."

"This is Valima," he gestured to the elf on his right, "She and I met up about twenty-ish years ago. You're a," he looked at her quizzically, "Sindar, right?"

"Yep," Valima nodded, her flowing red hair looking like the flames that shined light onto her, "Used to be part of Thranduil's army. Left when he went 'Dwarf Crazy'." She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at this, muttering "That guy was always kind of a freak…"

"Couldn't agree more. Anyway, that's Soos over there," he pointed at the hobbit who had pulled a loaf of bread from his pocket and was gnawing on it hungrily. He looked up and said with a full mouth, "'Sup, Dudes!" Ceneli rolled his eyes as the twins waved back, returning Soos's smile.

"I met with him closer to five years ago after something went down in the Shire. He came up north, met us, and is the best cook and repair guy west of the Misty Mountains."

Soos smiled sheepishly. "Aw, Mr. C, you don't have to say all that! I just help where I can."

"Why'da leave the Shire?" Merrigold immediately wished she hadn't asked, seeing Valima shake her head so hard that it may fall off and Soos's expression fall.

"Lot's of bad things happened in the Shire, dude. Mayor Whitfoot was kicked out by Lotho Sackville-Baggins, rude big folks started coming in from the west, all the trees were being reduced to kindling…" Tears began to well in his eyes, but he shook his head and smiled at them, "But now that I'm here with Mr. C, I get to see the trees _and_ fix stuff! I have a whole new family!"

Valacirca noted how forced the hobbit's smile became, but knew it would be better to let the subject rest. He turned to the black-cloaked rogue, who was now seated by the fire, plucking at the lute he pulled off his back. The man did not look up at them, but began to strum a grandiloquent tune, an arrogant look on his face. "And who are you?"

The man looked up, his pale face covered in stubble and greasy black locks. His eyes were shallow and his face pointed, but he looked at the wizard with a smirk. "The name's Neitha—"

"Your name's Robbie, kid. Stop trying to make yourself more interesting than you deserve."

Robbie glared at Ceneli and stood up, setting down his lute. "Last time I checked, _old man_ , if it weren't for me, you'd have an orc dagger three inches into your neck."

"And I let you tag along with me in thanks, a decision I'm starting to regret because of your endless whining. Now knock it off and go get the cart."

Robbie grumbled as he stalked off into the woods, branches cracking under his feet. Ceneli turned away from watching him leave and back to his twins. "Ok, I believe you two about being Denelem's kids, but I still don't actually know your names, or Goldie-Locks over there either." He sat down by the fire, ignoring the Noldo's scoff and gesturing for them to sit next to him.

Valacirca and Merrigold took his offer and settled near the fire, Merrigold lying on her side with her head in her brother's lap.

"My birth name is Genelem, but for many years I have been called 'Valacirca'. This is my twin sister, Merrigold,"

"Hello again!"

"Merrigold!"

"I'm sorry! I'm just happy we're finally done traveling!"

"Let me finish!"

Ceneli chuckled at the twin's exchange. Given their speech patterns and appearances, there was no shadow of doubt that they truly were his kin.

"Alright, kid, but why are you called _'Valacirca?'_ Was the family name too annoying?" He laughed at his nephew's expression, "I don't blame you if it's true!"

Valacirca sighed, and pushed his bangs up, revealing his birthmark. He saw Ceneli and Valima's eyes widen at the sight, and Soos said, "Dude, totally rad tattoo."

"It's not a tattoo," The wizard replied, not sure how exactly the three would respond to his tale, "Lady Varda put this mark on me about five years ago and gave me this staff. She did not say for what I was to use it, but she confirmed Cenelem's orders to meet you."

The older man's eyes were wide at this, and he slowly blinked, trying to process what his nephew said. Eventually, he spoke hesitantly, with an edge of suspicion, "Are you _sure_ this was Varda?"

Valacirca was taken aback. No _"You're crazy"_ or _"Yeah right! And I'm Elros!",_ just a simple question. "Uh… _yes._ "

"Hear me again, boy," Ceneli's eyes were fearful, and Valacirca felt Merrigold squirm some, "Are you one-hundred percent certain that this really was Varda, Queen of the Stars, and not some yahoo lady playing with your head?"

Valacirca tried to speak, but Ceneli had a point. He had no proof that it _was_ Varda, besides her word itself, but that would not satisfy the warrior. He opened his mouth, trying to find some sort of answer, but a voice cut across him. "He speaks the truth, _Edain,_ and I can confirm this."

Valacirca whipped his head to look at Tiunelu, who had drawn all eyes to herself. She looked at them haughtily, putting her diamond earrings back on, and then fixing her make-up with a small mirror.

"Oh yeah, Blondie?" Ceneli growled, not caring to be called _Edain_ as if it were an insult, "And who are you to confirm all this?"

Tiunelu placed her mirror down and returned the man's glare. "I will have you know that I am Tiunelu, daughter of Precoth Fornumen. I am a Noldo who has seen two ages of the Sun pass. I exceed _all_ of you in wisdom, knowledge, and skill."

Ceneli rolled his eyes and Valima groaned. "Ugh, _Noldo,_ have you even _held_ a weapon?" Valima grumbled, "You don't strike me as the person whose ever had to get their hands dirty."

Tiunelu smirked and said, "Why fight with a blade when one has magic?"

She opened her mouth and began to sing. The song was beautiful. It sounded like the voices of a nightingale and a thrush woven together, a song of joy and splendor. The fire danced in great shapes, images of horses and eagles forming in the flames. Great spires rose and fell in the red tongues, and the moon and stars shone brighter in the skies above. However, it brought no comfort to the party. It filled them with strength, but the strength was proud and dangerous, the type of strength that could lead one to overconfidence. It made them feel less sure in their own powers and spirits, beginning themselves to believe that the Noldor and Noldor only were the greatest Children of Illúvatar.

Soon, the song ended. The flames returned to their natural state, and all let out a sigh of relief. Tiunelu's face was gloating, pleased with ending the argument before any could stand against her. She smiled at Ceneli, who merely growled.

"Fine then," he muttered, "You're hot stuff. But how do you know he's actually serving Varda?"

The elf glared at him, loosing her patience with the Dúnedain. "I have my ways of knowing, _thief_ ," she put as much venom as possible into the final word, "Do you still wish to question me?"

Her only response was a round of glares from all others present, and Ceneli turned to Valacirca. "Sheesh, kid, how'd you get stuck with this one?"

The man pinched the bridge of his nose, beginning to grow weary from lack of sleep. "It's a long story…"

"Hmph," Ceneli grunted, "We've got all night kid, you can get some sleep on the road." With that, deep lowing and heavy footfalls were heard, and Robbie returned leading a large wagon pulled by two huge oxen. "You can hop in the cart tomorrow, I promise I won't slit you're throat!" He chuckled at this and pulled a pipe from his pocket. _My pipe,_ Valacirca noted, but it was returned to him lit and full of smoking leaf.

Ceneli smiled and looked at him expectantly, Soos and Valima scooting closer to hear the wizard.

Valacirca sighed, taking the offered pipe. "Alright," he muttered, "Here we go." He told them their tale until the Moon and stars slipped out of the sky, and the Sun rose over the horizon.

* * *

 **Notes:**

First of all, thank you all for reading! I really appreciate all of your feedback!

One quick thing about Ceneli, he is pushing seventy in this story, but since he is a Dúnedain, he looks like Stan when Stan had the mullet. I hope that helps you all picture him.

 **Review Replies:**

Batwizard15: I hope I helped clear things up! I do have more reasons why this is Fourth Age rather than earlier, but those come into play much later. Thank you for noticing my hiccup (I really need to make sure that it doesn't continue)! Just to be clear, this is definitely _five_ years after the fall of Bara-dûr, but again, thank you for noticing that mistake! Regarding Galadriel, she did at very least with-hold the information about the Oath, Kin-slaying, and ship-burning from Melian, so I figured it wouldn't be hard for Pacifica to hear about Galadriel's account, and make her own assumptions and mix them with what her father said. Pacifica hasn't seen Galadriel since the dawn of the Second Age, and by that time all the other elves assumed she knew the truth, as well as no one ever liked to bring it up in conversation. And, in regards to Gideon, _shhhhhhhhhhh._

I hope this helped clear it up! Thank you for the reviews!


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